A dream lost in the nightmare
by Lust-Defect
Summary: The nightmare haunts him, makes him question what he knows until the unexplanable becomes his world and it threatens to make him lose the only one he has. *spoilers for Legion*


A dream lost in the nightmare

'_Chloe…Chloe!'_

Davis runs, gathering himself off the bed of ice and towards Chloe. He gasps, sending an echo to the vast ice fortress, at the sight of her. Even against the shadows he can see the darkness of blood that taints her white wedding dress. She stands against the cold winds, seeming unaffected by the weather. Or the blood that lies dried on the cloth that covers her skin. His eyes focus on the contrast the deep red holds against the pure white. With a tremble in his shoulders the thought that the blood resembles his tainting presence in her innocent existence crosses him.

'_Oh my god, are you okay?'_

With his dark eyes, he can clearly see that she is not okay, but he asks the question either way. Her eyebrows raise and she takes slow steps closer to him. His stomach tightens and he's barely aware of the sticky red substance that is dried on his bare torso.

'_I'm just about perfect'_

Her words come out icy, somewhat sarcastic and dark. Davis inches his chin higher, looking at her face, hiding the gasp that threatens to escape when black eyes -lined with metallic silver- stare back at him.

'_You appear undamaged'_

Her hand grasps his chin as she inspects his face, seeming pleased by his undamaged state. She speaks as if programmed to do so, her curt tone cutting him deeper than the snow filled wisps of wind.

'_Chloe, what happened to you?'_

He should be asking her where the hell they are, and if she's cold but this question comes out of his mouth first. Her eyes are the biggest sign that something is horribly off and he needs to know what it is. He needs to understand why the angelic light that usually surrounds her has drained.

'_Chloe Sullivan ceased to exist the minute she entered this fortress…I'm a brain interactive construct'_

His heart seems to fall at the words spoken in an informative tone. How could Chloe ever cease to exist? How can such monstrosity be possible when her memory lies in the parts of his soul that can still feel?

'_Look at me, it's me. It's Davis'_

He says the words, trying his best to muster up some kind of strength. Muttering that it's him, Davis, should cause some response from her. Or at least he hopes so. Instead, his small expectations are crushed when icy inhuman eyes stare back at him and a mouth scowls as if preparing to spit out statements that should be obvious.

'_You're not Davis Bloome…you're not even human. Don't tell me the thought never crossed your mind. You are hatched by Kryptonian geneticists, your DNA was designed to adapt to any world you inhabit. Now you no longer need your camaphloge abilities. Those painful transformations you've been experiencing are only the beginning of your metamorphosis.'_

Bile rises in his throat. His entire body tightens, gets defensive. Tears blur his vision. He tightens his jaw to keep the tears at bay and his breakfast where it belongs.

'_This is insane'_

'_No it's sad, in a human…perspective. You're naïve romantic attraction to the human I chose to inhabit.'_

Her mouth moved close to his, her unfamiliar eyes peering observantly. As if she – or the one inside her- wanted to clearly see his reaction. To see his bouts of humanity, his cringes of emotional pain.

'_Chloe if you are in there, anywhere, you know that the feelings I have for you are real'_

He says in a pleading voice. He needs the Chloe he knows - and loves- back. Davis needs for the blood to be gone from her dress, her eyes to be their vibrant green and for her smile to warm his chilled body.

'_Feelings?-the word was practically spit out- It was just a program I had running to get you to me'_

The rest of its words came to Davis' ears in a blur. Davis's body no longer felt the cold, only the harsh releasing of his breath as he took it in. But no…the 'brain interactive construct' had to be trying to fool him. He knew inside of him that his love for Chloe was nothing near unreal or fake. But then again if it were a program wouldn't it make him think that? Davis shakes his head from the thought, gulping. No, he's sure of it. His feelings for Chloe are real.

Davis awakes with a loud gasp.

His body automatically sits up; his chest rises and falls rapidly. The room around him is dark, clouding his sight along with his tears.

"Davis?" The whisper calms his shaking, but only slightly.

He searches for the voice that will allow him to answer but does not find it. Soon a lamp's light illuminates the once dark bedroom. Davis turns his head, his glassy eyes carefully eying the woman in front of him. Her hand comes up and a flash of a cold hand gripping his chin flashes in his mind, quickly being suppressed when her hand traces a thick line with her fingers, warming the skin of his face. Her green vibrant eyes roam on his haunted expression, on his shoulders that keep quivering. Her slender fingers go around his neck, playing with the tuffs of hair on the nape of his sweat glistened skin.

"What's wrong, Davis?" She asks softly. His lip quivers. Chloe looks at the man before her, her heart dropping down to her stomach at the haunted edge in his eyes. One…two moments passes and he still has not answered her question. Her lips part, ready to ask again when suddenly his arms wrap around her and her torso is pressed tightly against his.

"Chloe." His voice sounds hoarse as he pleads her name. Her hand rubs up and down along his back, soothing, whisking away the goose bumps with warmth. Chloe feels his quivering lips lay a kiss on her shoulder.

"Davis-

"Chloe, you know that the feelings I have for you are real…right?" Chloe pulls back slightly, meeting his gaze.

"Feelings? – the question sends a shiver down his spine- ' of course, babe. Now tell me what's wrong."

"I just had a ba- a nightmare." Chloe caresses his cheek again, her thumb stroking the skin underneath his teary eyes.

"From the look on your face, it must have been one extremely intense nightmare." Davis swallows, his throat feeling dry.

"It was."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks, feeling helpless. Davis' arms wrap tighter around her as he nods a no. The moon shines down sinister light into their room, causing their embraced bodies to glimmer. The moon light begins to darken –as it does before dawn- when Davis starts laying back on their bed, with Chloe tight in his arms. He kisses her until her head is swimming, strokes her back with his fingertips until she falls asleep. He remains awake all night, letting in her image – her **real** image- seep into his shaken mind.

"I love you." Davis whispers, breaking the rooms silence. Chloe smiles in her sleep.

Two weeks later

He wakes with a gasp, sitting up on the bed he shares with Chloe. It takes only a moment to notice the broken wooden supports that lie on the floor. His dark eyes roam from their fractured bed, opening wide in horror when they meet the woman lying next to him. A deep gash –too deep- marks her flat stomach, the combination of dried and fresh blood contrasting with her skin. Bile rises in his throat. With a tightening of his jaw, he forces the reflex down. The image of a grey spike cutting into Chloe's soft skin flashes through Davis' mind, going as quickly as it came. But it's still enough to cause him to swallow down the bile that burns, begs to be released.

His legs manage working and take him to his drawer. A shirt gets thrown over his torso, pants slide onto his legs, socks and shoes cover his feet. Unaware of whether he matches or not he lifts the bloody Chloe into his arms. He takes them out from the back of the building – Davis ignores the fact that no one seems them, despite the many that live there- and lays her in the backseats of his car. The door shuts by his side weakly as he enters the driver's seat. Through his horrified haze Davis manages starting up the car and driving off, despite his wild speed and shaking hands.

It only takes him an hour to get to Smallville. He's driven there at a speed that would either elicit a grin or a frown from her. He knocks on the door, and it only takes two desperate knocks for Clark to open the front the door swiftly. An eyebrow rises as he takes in Davis' look. Davis swallows waits until Clark's eyes roam to the open door of the backseat and look back at him, confusion obvious.

"Chloe's in there." Davis croaks out.

"What happened?"

"I- I don't know."

"Is she hurt?" Davis feels bile rise up again. Two…three deep breaths are taken to keep the bile at bay. Clark's hand pats his shoulder –bringing back his attention to the man in front of him- and looks at the strong edge in Davis' eyes.

"What happened?" Clark asks again, as if Davis' hadn't responded the first time the question was uttered.

"I just woke up and she- she…oh god." Davis' says breathing heavily, not even capable of explaining the situation. Clark removes his hand from his shoulder and walks to the car. His stomach tightens and a roll of nausea passes his being at the sight of Chloe, shirt torn at the stomach, blood dried almost black on her pale skin, body limp and broken. The feeling of dread hits him so fiercely that Clark does not find the will to gasp. His arms pull Chloe out of the car and into his arms. He leads the horrified Davis to the loft. He lays her down on the red couch, stands near the lofts window, arms crossed across his chest, silent as he reminds himself to breathe.

"She's told me before, that if she'd ever gotten hurt, you'd somehow be there. I- I figure, you'd know what to do."

"Have you checked her pulse?"

"No…I didn't want to in case I didn't….

"Find one." Clark finished one, spitting out the words as if this was an occasional occurrence that he despised.

"What do we do?"

"Was she around anyone…anyone that was hurt?"

"I don't know." Clark sighs.

"We wait."

"Wait for what?"

"She'll wake up."

Twenty minutes later Davis and Clark are standing in the same places. Clark clears his throat, and Davis looks up.

"You should sit." Davis moves towards the couch. His numb hands lift Chloe's body slightly, as he slides underneath her, holding the back of her head and knees; cradling her to his heaving chest. Clark leaves the loft, coming back later with gallons of water and ice. Davis drinks one –attempting to calm the nerves that have had him high wire for the past few weeks- and keeps the rest for when Chloe –as Clark claims- wakes up.

For the next twelve hours, Davis understands what it means to have no free will. He understands the torture in having no ability to stop the nightmare surrounding him.

Once the thirteenth hour has begun Chloe Sullivan wakes. She breathes deeply, savoring the air and as Davis watches her he feels himself take what seems to be his first breath as well. Chloe leans her head on his chest, breathing in and out slowly, her green eyes open but unfocused. Her slender fingers trace a pattern on his clothed torso, as if trying to remember his form.

"Davis?" Chloe asks her eyes still unfocused. Davis moves the hand he had on the back of her knees and places it on her waist, pulling her close as he hugs her.

"It's me." She looks up at him, her eyes taking only a moment to focus and recognize him. She clears her dry throat and by her side comes Clark, holding a gallon of water near her face. With a shaky hand and both Clark and Davis' help she takes the gallon to her lips and begins drinking. Clark gives Chloe a brief side hug before rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'll give you two some time alone." He says softly, taking one more look at Chloe before going down the loft stairs. Chloe places the empty gallon down on the floor. Her arms wrap around Davis's neck as he holds her close, her hand rubbing circles on his back.

"Are you okay?" Davis' asks, getting a quick flash of his nightmare when he asked her the same question.

"I'm just about perfect." Her response sends a chill down his spine. But the tone of her voice as she says those words courses the quick flashes of a bloodied dress, and inhuman eyes out of his mind.

"How long was I…out?" She hesitates on voicing the last word.

"Almost a full thirteen hours."

"That's less than the last time."

"The last time? So this has happened before."

"Remember when I told you I was meteor infected?"

"Yes."

"This is part of my power."

"And the other part?"

"Healing people."

"I guess I'm not the only you were sent to." Chloe kisses his neck, his cheek and then his lips; sighing.

"But you're the only one I'll always want to be sent to." Davis' arms hang loosely around Chloe's waist as they kiss, lips smashes together, tongues savoring pain and producing relief.

"You should change that shirt."

Davis' offers, more for his benefit than for hers. The sight of her blood on her shirt is still causing his nerves to rattle, despite her obvious well being. She nods, starts making her way to the Kent home with her hand in his. She takes a shower, with him sitting in the bathroom watching her moving and breathing form from behind the curtain. Minutes later she's changing- Clark had some of her clothes here- in front of him. Davis practically drools at the sight of her healthy form.

Later Chloe sits in the kitchen table eating food that Clark cooked for them. Clark and Davis sit on each side of her, Clark's plate empty, and Davis' plate half full of food that he continues playing with.

"Who did you heal?" Clark asks. Chloe takes a break from eating and shakes her head.

"All I remember is being near something sharp and grey."

During the next few days neither of them mentions what happened, but Davis continues seeing the image of a spike and Chloe's bloody body.

It only takes a week for Chloe to become utterly and completely worried for Davis. She watches the way his eyes seem darker, a certain sadness covering the life that lingers in them. She notices the fact that he always watches her at night until she falls asleep and when she wakes up, him watching once more his body nearly hovering over hers in the same position as the night before as if he didn't move at all. As well as the way his body seem slumped, tired. They're eating dinner when she spots him playing around with his food and can't help but sigh and finally speak up.

"Davis, what's been going on?" He looks up, gazes at her in confusion with a hint of fear.

"What do you mean Chloe?"

"You barely eat; you look tired all the time. You've been so jumpy and serious lately. With the deep bags you've started sporting underneath your eyes, I don't even think you sleep anymore."

"Chloe…"

"Just tell me what's wrong."

"I-I…" She bows her head down slightly, her blonde bangs covering her eyes.

"Is it…us?" She hears him practically run across the table and then kneel before her. He takes her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Don't. Don't think for a second that the problem is us. We can never be a problem." He whispers passionately.

"But the way you hold me lately…it…" She trails off, biting her lip. With his thumb he releases her bottom lip from her abusing teeth.

"It what?"

"You hold me like you're about to let go. It feels like your taking your time before saying goodbye." Tears wet both of their eyes.

Davis gulps and pulls Chloe down onto his lap, straddling him as he rests his back against the light blue wall. His arms wrap around her waist tightly and her arms wrap around his neck as they sit on the floor, their foreheads pressed together. At the same time Chloe and Davis lean closer. With a deep breath Davis takes Chloe's lips and smashes it against his own. She sighs, letting his tongue enter her mouth, their tongues tasting and searing. When they pull away Davis holds her face in his hands.

"I feel like you were sent to me Chloe…but what if you were meant to be taken away." A rebellious tear slips down his cheek. Chloe kisses the tear away before it can fall down past his chin.

"No one's going to take me away, Davis. Why are you so afraid?"

"It's going to sound stupid."

"I don't care."

"Whenever I close my eyes, whenever I try to sleep; I see that nightmare playing over and over again in my mind." Chloe's finger trails the line of his jaw.

"What exactly do you see, Davis?" She asks, softly and curiously. Davis' eyes clench shut, a gulp cutting through the rooms silence.

"I see you…but it's not really you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well for one your eyes are a metallic grey and you tell me that Chloe Sullivan has ceased to exist." Chloe's eyes widen for a moment before she nods, urging him to continue.

"At first I'm confused by the comment but then you –or the thing in you- explain that you're an artificial intelligence. This artificial intelligence tells me that I'm not Davis Bloome…that I'm not even human." Davis rests his head on Chloe's chest, his ear pressed over her heart.

"Where were we?"

"I don't know…the artificial intelligence called it a fortress. It was cold everywhere, and you were wearing a wedding dress…with blood on it." Chloe seems to freeze up in his arms at this comment but she quickly recovers and simply rubs his back.

"What else happened?" She asks, partly from her need to let him get this off his chest and partly for her own curiosity.

"According to the artificial intelligence I was designed to adapt to any world I inhabit, and my feelings for you were just a program it ran to get me to it. Your eyes seemed more vacant than ever when the artificial intelligence told me that." Davis shudders at the memory, gulping down a sob. His lips find their way to her neck, nipping at the skin when he finds Chloe's pulse.

"Davis…" She trails off when his lips smash against her own, his lone tear making it salty. She arches into him, prolonging the end of the kiss; tasting the inside of his mouth until they're separating and gulping air.

"Davis, look at me." With her fingers she tilts up his head, forcing his gaze to collide with her own.

"I know that the feelings we have for each other are real. I love you-

"And I love you." Chloe nods before continuing.

"No nightmare could ever take me away from you. Don't question who you are because of a nightmare, it's not worth it."

"I just feel so –he gulps- 'helpless."

"Why?" Chloe asks, feeling helpless herself.

"Because once it's done explaining how inhuman I am and how my purpose is to destroy, it tells me that I have no free will. No way to stop it."

"Everyone has a choice Davis…you have free will and you have me."

"But what if I lose both?"

"You won't." She replies stubbornly and Davis lets his protest die, seeing the determination in her eyes.

Davis stands, one arm underneath Chloe's butt and another around her waist. He sighs, nuzzling her neck. She squeezes his shoulder and he looks up before his lips brush against hers gently. With a few more steps they find themselves in their bedroom, Davis' knees hitting the edge of the bed; their bodies falling back on the wide mattress. Chloe's lips separate from his and trail down to his jaw, nipping just where he likes. His fingers skim the skin under her shirt, lifting it and taking it completely off of her; revealing her flesh. Her fingers rip open the buttons on his shirt, peeling it off from his arms. He flips them over and begins laying kisses upon her stomach, his fingers moving downwards and unzipping her dark jeans. He kisses her thighs and the back of her knees once the jeans have fallen forgotten on the floor. Their eyes never close as she surrounds him completely with her heat. Her nails bite into his shoulder as their thrusts collide, her legs tight around his waist, their foreheads pressed together. Their moans are left muffled in their smashed lips.

"Davis." Davis lifts up his head from her chest and pulls the sheet higher, covering her body in more warmth. With his fingers threaded in her hair, he kisses her forehead.

"Yes Chloe?"

"Go to sleep with me." He tenses slightly at her words.

"What?" Chloe grasps his free hand, bringing it to her lips as she speaks.

"Please, I'll stay awake with you until you're asleep." Davis gulps.

"But-

"If you have that nightmare, you can wake up and I'll be here Davis. I'll be here with you."

For the first time in two weeks, Davis closes his eyes and finds rest.

He wakes up with Chloe's eyes roaming his body. When she notices his gaze she smiles.

"You fell asleep." He kisses her, instead of replying with any sort of further confirmation. He nips at her bottom lip, making her gasp –his favorite sound besides her singing- and pulls back, when the need for oxygen is too much.

"Thank you." Their hands thread, lying over the skin that covers Davis' heart. He shifts, bringing their bodies closer; to point where he can't tell where his body ends and hers begins.

"Let's stay in today." He suggests. Chloe grins, chuckling and ruffling his hair with her free hand.

"Hmm, playing hooky and escaping our daily lives for quality time. I like it." Davis smiles –a real smile for the first time in two weeks- and sighs.

"Good." He rests his head over her heart, feeling his heartbeat underneath their fingertips at the same time; reminding himself that they're both human, here and together. Above him the soft lull of Chloe's voice reaches his ears. It doesn't take him long to feel sleepy and peaceful or to hold her tight; grateful for the piece of heaven he's found in her embrace.

_I'll be here with you_

The words ring in his ears two months later. He wakes on burned and cracked earth. Around him the sound of sirens pierces the air. He looks for lights, for any sign of safety but there's too much smoke for him to see clearly. His feet are bare, collecting the warm dirt lying around on the pavement. Blindly he stumbles, falling near someone's body. His bare chest smacks against the ground harshly but the pain that should be burning barely stings, not when he hears her voice.

"Davis." She sounds out of breath, pained, wounded. He claws the distance between them. The sound of her strained breathing sounds loud to her ears. His hands cup her face, as he tries his best to ignore the blood seeping from her ruined shirt.

"What happened, Chloe? Who did you heal?"

"I don't know…I jus saw-

"Gray and something sharp; maybe spikes." He finishes for her, remembering the last time she healed someone and didn't remember. The last time he awoke with her body bruised and bloody near him. Her breathing sounds more strained and Davis can't help but start clinging on to desperation.

"No, Chloe please stay with me." Her shaky fingers make their way up to his cheek.

"Don't do this Davis. I'll be fine."

"No…"

"Davis-

"No! You're no going to be alright. Everything that I feared, it's, it's-

"I love you." Tears fall freely from his eyes.

"I'm going to lose you."

"I'll come back. " He chuckles bitterly, seeing right through her lie.

"You were never really good at lying to me."

"I know…but it was…worth the try."

"Shh." He whispers, wishing she wouldn't waste her breath.

"Don't leave me, stay with me." He begs, although he knows it's useless.

"I love you." The three words he loves hearing sound like venom in the form of words as he recognizes it as her goodbye.

"Don't say goodbye to me Chloe…please."

"It's not your fault. I love you Davis." His body trembles and his ear rests near her pulse point, the skin of her neck barely twitching as she takes her last breathes.

"You said you'd be here. You said I wouldn't lose you, that I had free will. I wished you were right Chloe…I though you were right." He doesn't say in blame, but simply in another bout of desperation.

"Don't cry, love." Her words, barely heard by his ears cause him to tremble more.

"I love you Chloe." She reaches up, his arms supporting her; cradling her to his chest. Chloe and Davis lean at the same time. Their lips meet softly and their bodies can't help but shudder in unison as they realize what this moment means. Davis watches the life fade out from her eyes once they pull away.

"I love you Davis."

"And I love you."

"Don't cry, love." She dies with a small smile.

He doesn't make it to the funeral. The creature in him doesn't let him. The first two days, he doesn't move, doesn't eat; simply remains in front their closet watching her clothes. He thinks of what she'd wear for work, how she'd stand there and ask which one would look best. On Tuesdays her decision would be between a deep blue or a green blouse with black dress pants and a blazer. He'd always tell her how beautiful she looked in both while doing a session of innie Minnie Minnie mo.

After the first two days Davis moves, but only to another spot in their bedroom. He sits on the floor, watching the pictures they had framed on the top of their night table. Pictures of her wide smile, the sun lighting the skies around her dimming against the brightness of her happiness. There was a picture, one of him and Chloe kissing. She sat on his lap, his fingers tickling her sides. She was laughing widely and his face glowed brightly with a smile of his own. But then she begged for him to stop in between fits of laughter and his fingers grasped her waist. She leaned down and their lips meet, until a flash from Clark's camera caused them to separate.

Images cross Davis' mind, the muscles in his body ache fiercely with the lack of movement. At times his mouth opens, his stomach clenches. Yet the scream never erupts, the bile never leaves. It reminds him that the artificial intelligence was right…he has no free will.

"You didn't go to her funeral." Clark says the statement in a low tone. He's been calling Davis for the past week, and this is the first time he picks up.

"I know." Another clench of his stomach with the two words he speaks.

"Why not?"

"No one could ask me to see her lifeless, being buried."

"I know."

"Why are you calling me Clark?"

"I needed to make sure you weren't dead too." He replies and Davis can't help but wonder if he's embracing his inner Chloe snark or if seeing his relationship with Chloe has caused him to actually feel worry and sympathy.

"I am."

"Chloe wouldn't-

"Don't. I have to go." He hangs up before Clark can finish the statement.

He walks to the bathroom, entering the shower. He turns up the waters heat until the vapor surrounding the entire room, fogging up the mirrors. The soap washes away the dirt, but he continues scrubbing. His skin feels raw when he finally leaves the shower. He changes into simple clothes, a black t-shirt, black jeans and his usual leather jacket.

Blindly he drives towards the cemetery that lies somewhere halfway in between Smallville and Metropolis. He finds it ironic that her body lies in between the two places her journeys crossed. It doesn't take long for him to find her grave. Even now he feels the connection drawing him to her. Davis kneels down in front of the stone that is engraved with her name.

"Chloe Ann Sullivan. Beloved daughter and cherished woman." He reads the words in a whisper.

The first tear falls slowly, taking it's time in burning the flesh of his cheek with its warmth. Other tears follow quickly, wetting his face. His bite his lip to hold back a sob the way she would always do. He rests his forehead against the tombstone, wishing it were her forehead instead.

"I'm sorry."

'_It's not your fault.'_

He hears the words she sung breathlessly to him in her last moments and the guilt piles up on him. She's wrong, it is his fault. His eyes close and her image creeps its way in.

"I'm so sorry." He knows she won't hear, but the apology still leaves his lips.

"You were always right. I was hoping you'd be right this time too, but you weren't."

'_Don't cry, love.'_ His tears drop down onto the grass. She asked him not to cry once but the tears wouldn't stop and now days later they won't stop either. They prick his eyes, force his back to shudder; remind him that he's still here while she's gone.

"I was right this time. You were the best dream and…-he trails off, unable to say that he's lost her- 'My fears, my nightmare…I was…right."

'_It's not your fault. I love you Davis.'_

"I love you Chloe." His knees hug his chest as he sobs silently, letting his spoken sorrows reach the air.

'_I am not going to hurt anyone.'_

'_You have no free will.'_

"I love you. I'm sorry. I had no…way to stop it."

The pain takes a heavy toll on him, tearing him apart while building him up. He no longer feels any ounce of happiness his camaphlouge allowed him to feel is gone. Except for this misery, so he drinks it in as his personally made poison. This is the only choice he can make in the midst of the blood that will constantly stain his skin, the bones his ears will hear cracking, the unexplainable rage, and the hope for the other Kryptonian to step up and end it, the unacceptance of his loss.

He has no free will.

THE END


End file.
